Paranormal Activity: The Marked Ones, and the Loss of my Popcorn

Every second comedy that I watch contains a scene where a scary movie is being watched, and popcorn flies from the unsteady grasp of the person who was holding it, due to the person’s nerves being extremely shaken – and every time I watch one of these scenes, I imagine myself doing the same thing, getting popcorn all over the persons sitting around me, intentionally of course. That was not the case today.

Today, I watched the new Paranormal Activity movie, The Marked Ones, and today, I lost the best part of my popcorn, the last part, the only part where half-popped crunchy pieces infused with butter flavoring lay, and there was nothing I could do about it except for deter my focus from the cinema screen momentarily to the best popcorn pieces flying further and further from my grip – in this scenario, the ‘five second rule’ could not apply because then that would mean additional time not focusing on the movie, and not knowing what happens next, because important parts of scary movies happen after the loud noises – well, most of the time, anyway.

The movie itself was quite frightening, and not in the sense that the storyline was psychotic and frightening, but in the sense that I felt like every character in the movie had their face turned into a zombie toward the end, and they all just happened to pop out of nowhere after loud noises or screams sounded. Like every other Paranormal Activity movie though, thankfully it is blatantly obvious in places where scary things were bound to happen, so I had plenty of time to brace myself before each one.

The worst thing about this movie was that most of it was said in Spanish. And they did not even say words I can identify, like ‘loco’ or ‘puta’. They had Spanish people speaking so much Spanish that Spanish students in their third year of studying Spanish would faint. All I kept thinking about was whether I was watching a scary movie or spying on the Cartel. I suppose, though, this is a nice touch to the movie because the camera was being held by a person most of the time, and they would have what was being said translated, summarized, to make the viewer feel even more immersed in the movie.

The ending, I will not spoil, but I will say, not atypically, that it does not make any sense, and it ends like most Paranormal Activity movies end. That was not even a spoiler, that was a fact, because unfortunately most scary movies nowadays end in that manner and makes the amount spent on wanting to watch it an utter waste. I want to watch a scary movie for once that makes sense, that can be applied to everyday life, so that I can carry about my daily chores with the biggest amount of fear inside of me screaming that whatever happened in the movie I just watch will happen to me at any moment.

Not to mention the group of four teenage girls behind me – thank you for constantly screaming out profanity at moments where a scary thing did not happen. Thank you for overreacting at moments that contained funny things and thank you for screaming louder than the speakers, I quite enjoyed missing out on most of the dialogue said in English and hearing you scream “what, what happened?” instead. It made the experience a hell of a lot more delightful.

I recommend the film to all Paranormal Activity fans, because if you are not a fan, not only will you be double as lost, but you will most likely run out of the theatre at the end and attack the nearest cinema employee and demand your money to be returned. Also, bring a Spanish friend along with you to translate half the movie, and finish your popcorn in the advertisements before the film will begin, otherwise it will be sacrificed in the good parts of the movie.

Awesome Asylums

Teenagers are thrill seekers. Whatever they are advised not to do, they most likely will do, just to spite those who attempted to place invisible blockades to render their adventurous paths. Today, I relived my teenage days by disobeying a 'no trespassing' sign which was hung all around the outsides of abandoned and apparently haunted mental asylum buildings in a place I will not name in the event of a ghostly spirit reading this and learning my location. 

We parked in a bay graffitied with a message in white: 'park here and you die.' We did not obey because the possibility of this was not high, unless we were approached by Godzilla or a similar horrendous monstrosity of the sort. We stared around to determine our entrance points, and away we went, trying not to pay attention to onlookers who could report our trespassing. As I entered the buildings, some difficult, in that I had to crawl through a noisy blocked door to reach the entrance, and some rather simple, in that I simply walked in as though the spirits were awaiting my arrival, I wondered what exactly it was that brought me there. It was my eighth time there, however this was the only time that I had built up the courage to actually enter the buildings. 

I thought and thought, as I stared around at the eroded and vandalised walls. Was it the asbestos in the air that thrilled me? Or was it the possibility of getting in contact with a ghost? Perhaps it was the risk factor that I might get caught trespassing and receive a bad name forever. Maybe it was all of these factors mixed together. Either way, I was in an eerie place which had limited my breathing and increased my awe in the spiritual world. 

I felt comfort amidst the creepy quietness, because I was guaranteed an exit from each building as at least the second-last person, but never the last. I was content with this because with whatever could have happened, my slow self would have not been caught up in the potential tragedy or remake of a paranormal situation like those in movies such as Paranormal Activity or Insidious. I explored most rooms, attempting to imagine who or what used to be in each years before I was there. My imagination knows no bounds, which scared me even more than the fact that I was there. 

There was one building that we dared not enter, though. We peeked inside, and saw that every door there was intact because they were barred. Cast iron bars had held back patients which had needed solitary entrapment. These patients would have been the worst cases, and to feel the negative spiritual energy of these would have scarred us all for years. We simply walked back to the car and drove off. 

Our adventurous needs were for the day met. We enjoyed ourselves in a place which at one stage of its existence was the epitome of the total opposite of the feeling of enjoyment. We did not speak a word about this place in the car trip back home, and rightfully so. These places are purely for thrill seeking and sympathy. Those who do not respect them ought not be respected by possible spirits. 

I will continue to enjoy this type of thrill seeking despite the possible danger I might face. Thrills are adrenaline pumpers, and I prefer my mostly stable adrenaline levels to become unstable and heightened. For a life lived without adventure is a life not worth living.